


This is Home

by orphan_account



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:24:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Mbappe is feeling down after a bad game along with the rest of the team and Neymar makes them all sleep on the floor together as a form of team bonding. A tradition he brought over with him first from Santos and later from Barca.





	This is Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, haven't seen a story with mbappe and neymar here since I don't know how long so I took it upon myself to write it. English isn't my first language so I apologize for the mess this is. I really love mbappe and neymar's friendship so I hope you all enjoy it.

Today hadn’t been a good day. 

Kylian was sprawled out across his bed, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling fan. Breathing out slowly, he turned on his side. The psg dorm room he was currently staying at was pitch black except for the soft glow coming from the digital alarm clock stationed at his bedside. It read 1:30 am. 

He should be asleep by now. Kylian knew that, but his brain just wouldn’t turn off and let him rest. Sighing softly, he turned around. Staring at the opposite wall. It didn’t really help him much in his quest for sleep. 

Kylian still closed his eyes and tried to relax. 

The grueling training regime was supposed to start in less than six hours, and he knew Tuchel wouldn’t appreciate him coming into practice dead on his feet. Besides, they all owed Tuchel more than that, especially after that disastrous game they had today, or yesterday now that it was past midnight. Kylian stomach knotted up at the thought, but he quickly shoved the memories back down into the deepest darkest hole in his mind. He couldn’t think about any of that now. 

He still couldn’t sleep. And before he knew it the memories of the game started to resurface once more. They were running through his head over and over again like an endless horror movie, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. 

I should have done better he thought, fist clenching around the covers. I should have tried harder. 

Just the thought that he failed his team when they needed him the most made him physically ill. 

With a sigh, he lay on his back once more, and stared at the ceiling fan spin around and around. There was no way he was falling asleep tonight. Not with the state his mind was right now. 

Suddenly a sharp knock on the door rang across the room, startling Kylian out of his musings. He sat up quickly and wondered for the briefest of moments, who the hell that was? Then he quickly and clumsily stumbled out of bed, put his pants on, and for the first time today felt a tiny smile ghost his lips. He savored that lighthearted feeling for a second, before walking over to the door. 

He knew who was waiting outside before he even opened, and as the door slide open to reveal Neymar’s grinning face, Kylian felt a similar grin slide onto his own. 

“Finally come to get us all, for your enforced slumber parties?” he said, leaning against the door frame and staring at his friend, cheeky smile refusing to leave his lips. 

All previous forlorn emotions were nowhere to be found now. 

His words had been spoke in French, but by the way Neymar hit his shoulder playfully, muttering something back in Portuguese, it would have been hard to tell by anyone who knew of them both. 

Kylian found it hard to explain to people sometimes how neither of them spoke each other's languages well, but were still able to understand each other as if they did. 

It tended to make for a pretty amusing conversation. 

Neymar flicked his forehead than, before pointing his finger at Kylian’s bed. “Get your stuff and let’s go,” he said, turning around and walking down the hallway. 

“Some of the others are already waiting downstairs,” he called back, 

Leaning out of the door Kylian called after him, voice indignant “You didn’t even come get me first?” 

Neymar’s laugh was all that greeted him as the man himself rounded the corner and disappeared. 

Shaking his head with a huff, Kylian went back to his bed and quickly went to work removing the blankets, pillows and the covers. Carrying everything in his arms out the door and down the hall to reach the stairs located at the corner of the hallway opposite of were Neymar went. 

He tried to be careful while making his way down the stairs. It wouldn’t do to break something now at this stage of the competition, he thought. Plus, Tuchel would have his head if he did. 

Taking the steps one at a time, he made quick work of them. And as he got closer to the first floor, the more noise he heard. Mutterings from familiar voices drifted towards him. Arguments as well. Thiago Silva didn’t sound all that happy Kylian mused. 

Finally, he arrived at the Wide Space, affectionally nicknamed so by Presnel Kimpembe. It was the room that stood between the kitchen/cafeteria and the Livingroom. It was where all the gaming took place more or less. 

It hadn’t been such a long journey to get here but carrying all these stuff was taking serious toll on Kylian’s arms, but he thankfully didn’t have to hold on to them much longer as he was met with loud greetings, which Thiago shut down almost immediately. And someone, who turned out to be Edi took his things out of his hands and moved further into the room. Throwing a quick hello over his shoulder. 

Kylian was grateful for the help. It gave him time to look around the dark room. From what he could gather with the help of the random lights emitted from the other players phones, almost half the team were there. Some already laying down on their make shift beds on the floor, while others were still arguing in furious whispers on who had the right to which spot. 

This was nothing new, so he didn’t pay them any attention. Instead he let himself finally relax. Kylian hadn’t realized how tense he was till his muscles slowly started to loosen up and his breathing evened out. 

Closing his eyes, he soaked in the atmosphere around him. It was like breathing in fresh air after being stuck underground for hours. 

Standing here amongst his teammates, amongst his friends, made the empty feeling he had been carrying all day long feel not as heavy anymore 

He got why Neymar did it. Why he always after a particularly bad game or even a disheartening one knocked on all their doors or called them up when they were at their homes. Just so that they could gather on one floor (didn’t even matter where) in a heap of blankets and pillows and just be. 

“Oi Kylian,” someone called out. He looked up, catching Presnel’s eyes. “Where’s your spot?” he asked waving his left hand around vaguely, while arranging someone’s stuff with the other. 

Kylian shrugged. “Next to Ney.” 

Presnel nodded and shoved what Kylian now realized were his own stuff over to another heap on the floor. 

Kylian made his way towards him. Ducking under good natured tugs on his shirt and annoying pats on the head and started to sort his things out. This mainly involved creating a comfortable mess. 

After he was satisfied with his, Kylian briefly contemplated doing Neymar’s. Shrugging to himself he got to work. Might as well, he thought. 

Soon enough everything was in place, and everyone had arrived. Neymar being the last one with a sleepy Moussa in tow. 

From his place on the floor Kylian watched Neymar gently guide Moussa to his place beside their captain and help him lie down or at least try to. Kylian himself was trying hard not to laugh as he observed Neymar failing to get Moussa under the blankets without losing his grip on the younger boy and letting him tumble onto the floor. 

Everyone knew that a sleepy Moussa Diaby equaled zero motor functions, flailing limbs, and grumpy whining. In short, hell to deal with. 

Kylian snorted. 

In the end, Thiago had to get up and provide Neymar with the much-needed assistance he was begging for. 

Finally, Moussa was tucked in and out like a light. Much to everyone’s amusement. Neymar made his way carefully through the dark just a couple of minutes later and situated himself next to Kylian with a huff. 

“I swear that kid is going to be the death of me,” he said. 

Kylian responded by patting his shoulder sympathetically while snickering softly under his breath. 

This resulted in Neymar punching him once again on the shoulder, this time much harder. Kylian shoved him right back, and it might have escalated into an all-out brawl, but a sharp clearing of throat from their captain put a quick stop to that. 

Neymar however wasn’t ready to forgive, and instead opted to put Kylian in a headlock and gift his head with forceful loud kisses, which Kylian protested vehemently trying to get loose, but his heart wasn’t really in it he had to admit to himself. 

Things quieted down pretty soon after, but the silence that followed was anything but welcoming. It was almost deafening and through it no one chose to speak up. The game had been disastrous after all, but they had come here to talk about it all, to get things off their chests, and this quiet in Kylian’s opinion was unacceptable. 

Taking a deep breath, he brought forth all the courage he had in reserve and opened his mouth. “Am sorry I missed that last-minute chance,” he said. His voice to his surprise coming out a lot weaker than he expected. Clearing his throat, he added “I should have tried harder, concentrated more, sorry I let you down.” 

He was looking at no one as he spoke. Eyes instead fastened on the dark corner of the room where he assumed the large TV screen was located. 

“You couldn’t have done anything,” a voice said to his left than. 

The voice of Marquinhos. 

“The goalkeeper was closer to the ball and he came out and cleared it. No matter how fast you are, even you couldn’t have done something about that.” 

Sighing softly Marquinhos muttered “I should’ve stopped them from scoring instead. We wouldn’t have been in that situation at all if I had just closed my man down.” 

Kylian could feel a protest rising to his mouth, but before he even opened his lips to make a sound, someone piped up from the right side of him. 

“How?” 

Nsoki’s voice was high and incredulous. 

“By playing smarter,” Marquinhos answered back. A bit more of a bite to his tone this time. 

“Man,” the disbelief in Nsoki’s voice was clear. “He was offside. The ref made a huge mistake in letting that goal stand, and there is nothing you could have done to stop that as that guy was ahead of you before you even had a chance to move.” 

Laughing softly he added “There is nothing else you could have done.” 

He was moving around now. Restless, Kylian assumed. “Now me on the other hand,” he said. “Entirely different story. They were running my side of the field by the end of the game. Without facing any relevant opposition.” His voice barely came out as a whisper now. 

“I was useless.” 

“Bullshit,” Verratti said. And Kylian knew it was Verratti because just as he said it, Nsoki let out a yelp of pain. 

Only Verratti would hit someone to prove a point. 

“We lost control of that game long before you became a liability kid. And you did become a liability,” he said firmly. For no matter how playful the short Italian was, he never sugarcoated the truth. 

“But,” he continued. “You are young, and you did the best you could. You ran your heart out today, and it was up to us the midfield to gain back control of that game, but we couldn’t and for that am sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Neymar suddenly said from right next to him. 

Kylian had almost forgotten he was there, and he barely kept himself from jumping a foot in the air out of fright. Frankly he was proud of himself for that level of restraint. Ney would have never let him live it down. 

“That you and Rabiot even held the midfield down for so long is impressive,” Neymar continued breaking Kylian out of his thoughts. “We don’t have a defensive midfield, and sometimes it feels like we ask too much of you guys.” 

Exhaling, he shifted slightly in his spot. Getting a bit closer to Kylian so that he could comfortably rest his head on his shoulder. 

“I should have created more chances for us,” he continued. 

Neymar’s frustration with himself was quite evident to Kylian. “Am supposed to carry the team when there is no other way out.” 

Swallowing thickly, he added almost in a guilty whisper “Am supposed to be your Leo, or at least a knock off version of him that you can count on when things get tough” 

Kylian’s gut twisted violently at those words. The rage he always felt towards those vile media outlets almost resurfacing with an explosive outburst, but he forcefully shoved it down to be addressed for another time and instead opted to find Ney’s cold hand and squeeze it tight. 

Ney squeeze it back, and Kylian used that response as a reassurance to calm himself down further. 

“You are no one’s knock off,” Thiago Silva said then. His voice showing no sign of the anger he must be feeling on Neymar’s behalf even though Kylian knew how much the older man was boiling inside. 

“We love you for the player you are,” he said. “For what you bring to the team, for how much you care, and no responsibility of a team should ever solely lie on one man’s shoulders.” 

Pausing for a moment, he added “Not yours nor Messi’s.” 

Neymar hummed softly beside him and Kylian squeezed his hand again one more time before letting go. 

Ney would be fine. They all would be eventually. 

Things carried on like that for a while longer. Everyone airing their grievances, their insecurities, bringing them into the open, and letting someone answer their pleas for help. And someone always came through. Whether it was to reassure them, or to give them advice on how to deal with those sorts of situations better. 

This was why Kylian loved Neymar’s forced slumber parties. That stupid team bonding exercise he had forced and coerced everyone into taking part in ever since he joined the club. Long enough that it had taken root into their foundation and became a natural part of their routine. 

Kylian’s eyes started feeling heavy. He tried to fight it for a while, but soon it was almost impossible to keep them open. So, he slowly let them shut and welcomed the darkness that engulfed him into its warm embrace. 

Ney’s soft breathing against his skin and the soft murmurs of his friends lulling him finally into the long-awaited sleep.


End file.
